Across the Street
by How Like a Winter
Summary: Jacob must have another presence with him at all times, most of all when severed from the Island and his brother to pursue a candidate in the chaos of New York City.


**Across the Street**

When they were still planning his journey to the city, Richard had warmed him of the mainland's many dangers, but still, the towering office buildings and machines zooming back and forth in the blink of an eye were more than enough to disorient him.

"Get back!" Ilana shouted, yanking Jacob to the curb with so much force that he thought his arm would pop out of its socket. Well, he'd trained her to protect him, at least. "What were you thinking? That sign says not to walk. You could have been killed!"

Jacob pretended to be distracted by the flashing billboards above his head. Losing himself in the array of lights wasn't too difficult. "Come on," she growled, and he blinked back into the moment to follow her. While he easily traveled across the sea, across the street was another matter entirely.

When Ilana spoke to Jacob, he noticed that Richard was just barely stifling laughter. And Jacob smiled to himself, pleased that Ricardus found amusement in it, even if it was at Jacob's expense. The man had never laughed much, and Jacob had regretted that many times. As a group of suit-clad businessmen brushed past him, Jacob rushed to catch up to Ilana. "Where're we headed?"

"I thought we should hit Starbucks first. Frankly, I need the coffee, and if we're going to be here a few days then you need to get used to the food."

He squinted against the wind that fought against every step they took. "What's coffee?"

"The best drink ever invented."

"Don't they sell fish somewhere?"

"Of course not," Ilana snapped, and he wondered how the innocent question had provoked her so.

Tiptoeing around her mood swings wasn't easy, and concentrating on anything in this wild city was even harder, but most difficult of all was to avert his eyes at the right time as they passed one woman after another. None of them had seashells in their hand, and it was like everyone had washed that morning, their clothes too. They wore colors as bright as the billboards above his head, and even as the breeze nipped at his arms, many of the women wore threadbare tops with scooping necklines and sometimes even a short skirt. As they complained about the cold and rubbed their arms and talked loudly and whispered and giggled, he could hardly tear his eyes away, except when he saw Ilana's glare or Richard's knowing smile.

When Ilana entered the coffee shop, Jacob backed away from the revolving door as others shoved past him. "Going in?" asked Richard.

"Yeah, there's just…a lotta people in there, that's all." As Ilana turned and realized that Jacob wasn't behind her, she gestured impatiently at him. Gingerly he pushed against the door and followed her in.

The crowd inside chattered and carried on with a clamor that made Jacob want to cover his ears, if only it wouldn't have annoyed Ilana. A baby wailed, a woman swore as she dropped her coffee on the floor, and two kids argued over how to split up some kind of sugarcoated bread that Jacob had never seen before. The place reeked of unfamiliar smells, and he inhaled slowly, heart racing under the barrage of his senses. "What do you want?" demanded Ilana.

"Whatever you're having," Jacob said helplessly, and then a familiar sight caught his eye. "I'll have the fruit." Before Ilana could scoff at him, he turned away and sat at the only open table. The cramped space restricted him from stretching out his legs and the table was nearly hidden in the corner, compressed by walls that were far too narrow. For a city as big as New York, every non-skyscraper lacked the size to properly hold the numbers packed inside, Jacob thought, especially compared to the miles of open space at home.

While Ilana waited in line, he surveyed the people at the other tables. A wrinkled, gray-haired woman cradled the screaming baby in her arms, and Jacob wondered about the baby's mother and father. Closer to him sat a young couple, and he counted the tattoos on the boy's arm (maybe he was too old to be called a boy, but Jacob's idea of childhood stretched out a little longer than most). The sunlight streaming through the window glistened off the girl's hair, a shade of red that Jacob had never seen on anyone before. It bobbed up and down as she spoke to the boy, who waved her away. When she put a hand on his arm, his lips formed the words "shut up," and he thrust her arm away just as his phone rang. The girl looked the other way and folded her arms, jaw clenched, as he answered the phone.

In the opposite corner sat another girl that appeared to be close in age to the first, but shrunk back in her seat and wore brown clothes that hung off her tiny frame. Her gaze was fixed on the phone on the table in front of her, and every time it buzzed, she hunched over the table as her eyes scanned the screen. Once, her eyes grew wide and she lowered her head. As her fingers flew across the keys in response to whatever message had upset her, the corner of her right sleeve was caught on the table and slid down to expose scars.

Jacob shuddered and thought, if only people knew how much they revealed in simple actions. Unable to watch her anymore, he turned his head towards the siblings in a booth nearby. Their game with the dessert escalated when the boy held it above his sister's outstretched arms, and both grinned from ear to ear. The younger girl, not much past the age of a toddler, stood up in her chair and reached forward, but her father shoved her back down into her seat. His mouth moved sharply in a reprimand, and she withered under his glare as he lectured the two of them, voice rising in volume. The boy's cheeks were soon streaked with tears that highlighted the faded black eye that Jacob did not see at first. Finally the father held a finger to his lips and said, "Later." The boy's lower lip quivered in either sadness or fear.

With a sigh, Jacob closed his eyes against the pain that surrounded him, thicker than the walls. He wanted to take every one of them to the Island, and he would have, if it were possible. But even then, not all of them would escape their flawed lives. The tattooed boy would still struggle to control his anger. The one sitting alone, her scars could follow her to the Island and back if she let them. He had seen it enough times, had brought people just like them, and he knew they were hardly the worst of what New York offered.

"Thank goodness that's over."

Jacob gave a start as Ilana stepped out of the corner of his vision and set down a plate with assorted fruit and two Styrofoam cups. "Relax," she muttered, sliding into the other chair.

"I could say the same to you." As she opened her mouth to retort, he picked up one of the cups and said, "What's in there?"

"That's my coffee. You're getting water. I didn't think it was a good idea to introduce new liquids too. Will you put my coffee down?"

Setting it back on the table, Jacob held his hands up in mock surrender. But Ilana ignored him, tearing open the straws and sticking them in the cups. She handed one to him and he gulped it down, but sputtered a little. "What's wrong?" asked Ilana.

Peering over the top of the cup, he said, "It doesn't taste like water."

"Of course it doesn't, it's been purified. Try the fruit."

Reaching out his hand, he hovered over the tray and observed the different shapes. Finally he selected a grape and popped it in his mouth, chewing for nearly a minute before he swallowed. "It's certainly different."

When Ilana rolled her eyes and shook her head, Jacob folded his hands on the table and said, "Is there something you want to say?"

The words bordered on a frustration that Jacob rarely showed. Ilana's cheeks colored and she said, "I'm doing it again, aren't I." He nodded. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't my place."

"Then why do it?"

Lowering her voice as if embarrassed that anyone else should hear, she said, "I'll do my best not to be overbearing, but to be honest, I'm terrified that something's gonna happen to you here. And if it did, I'd never forgive myself for it."

His voice softened. "I understand."

Half-smiling, she sipped at the coffee and sighed with pleasure. "Ah, I missed that."

Jacob arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Mostly he looked down at the plate and picked at the fruit every now and then without so much as touching the cheese. Even the grapes tasted odd enough on his tongue, coated in sweetness that made his lips pucker involuntarily and he swallowed hard to force it down. When he looked up again, he saw Ilana looking at him, eyes searching his face. "It's fine," he said.

"Okay, okay."

Eventually she suggested that they locate the hotel where they would spend the night. He nodded, standing up from the table. They cleared it off and scoured the area for Richard, and they found him sitting outside the Starbucks across from a dark-haired woman with, Jacob thought, enough jewelry hanging off her arms for anyone to hear her approaching from a mile away. "Coming, Ricardus?" he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Of course," he said, and slung his bag over his shoulder. When he pushed his chair in, the woman winked at him, and they exchanged farewells.

As they walked away, Ilana smirked at Richard, but he only said, "Let's hail a cab."

The words were foreign to Jacob, eyebrows knit in puzzlement. He disliked this bewilderment, he decided, that followed him throughout New York, or really just about anywhere outside the Island. But this place was different, nothing like the convenience stores of Iowa or the countryside of Jasper, Alabama.

Then Ilana was telling him to hurry up and get in the cab, and he ducked to enter another one of those machines that he had studied cautiously since arrival. Richard sat in what Ilana told Jacob was the passenger's seat, and that was a relief because Jacob couldn't understand a word the driver said, nor would he have known what to say to him. In dealing with people, he preferred to watch rather than interact. Then Richard raised his voice, speaking slowly, and Jacob glanced at Ilana. "He's trying to explain," she said, leaning forward in her seat to listen, but didn't elaborate on what Richard was trying to explain. Jacob guessed that she just didn't want to bother with his questions, but he didn't want to bother her either, so he sat back and waited.

The cab lurched forward suddenly, and Jacob's stomach lurched with it. More odors flooded his nostrils, the stench of gasoline surrounding him like the doors of the cab. More walls, he thought, and they drove on. Or rather, they staggered on, one second breezing past the shops but halting with such force in the next that he feared being thrown forward. The air was hot and stifling, trapping the heat and the smell of the sweat that beaded on his forehead, and though Ilana said nothing, she pursed her lips in a thin line. As the ride continued, she looked away every time Jacob turned his head form the window. He knew how badly she wanted to ask about him. "I'll be fine," he said.

"Your face is white."

"Is it?" Without thinking, he lifted a hand to massage his pounding temple, but stopped when he realized how much it would alarm her.

"Are you nauseas? Dizzy?"

There wasn't a chance of him successfully lying, least of all to her, so instead he replied, "You'll be the first to know if I am." Certainly that was true enough.

Unsatisfied, she sat back and continued to watch him. Before too much more time passed in the cab, though, they reached their destination: Belvedere Hotel, the sign proclaimed above the doors. The towering buildings concealed the setting sun, and Jacob breathed in with pleasure as the dropping temperature washed over his flushed skin.

"You okay, Jacob?" Richard asked, smiling at Ilana. In a huff, she strode past him into the hotel. "Can't take a joke."

"You have no idea." But Jacob was smiling too. "Where did we get the money for this?"

"Ben has more money in the bank than I thought."

"How'd he come by it?"

"You really want to know?"

It didn't take long for Jacob to think about that. "Not really."

Just as Richard set his bag down and the two of them sat in a couch to wait for Ilana, she was handing out room keys. "Richard's leaving early to catch a plane." Jacob wasn't the only one with business in America, but Richard's was considerably further away. "If you're in my room, you won't be alone—"

"I'll be fine, Ilana."

"If you're sure. If you need anything at all, just call my room."

Without another word, she approached a set of double-doors. When she pressed a button with an arrow pointing up, the doors opened automatically. Then she pressed another button, the doors closed, and Jacob heard the strange whirr of machinery at work. "That's an elevator," Richard said. "It'll take us up to the floor our room is on."

"Mind if I take the stairs?"

Reading the number on the room key, Richard raised his eyebrows and said, "We're on the thirteenth floor."

"I don't like machines."

"Whatever you say. See you in 1310."

"You trust that thing? Although I suppose you're safe no matter what."

"Exactly."

As Jacob walked to the stairs, an elderly couple stared at them, wide-eyed and clearly perplexed by the conversation. Laughing under his breath, Jacob pushed open the small door that said "stairs," his shoulders sagging as he looked up at skinny steps, twisting up for miles. Or at least, it felt like miles until he passed floor eight, at which point he ran out of words to describe the journey. He tucked his nose into one shoulder to wipe off the sweat, kept walking, and marveled at how New York could be more taxing than the tropical climate island with all the air conditioning. Then again, he rarely left the comfort of Tawaret's statue, where he wove—not exactly the most physically demanding exercise. At least Richard didn't accompany him, like Ilana would have insisted upon, and it reminded him of his own mother's protectiveness. Then he sighed with relief to see the sign that said "thirteen," partly to be finished with the trek, and also because he didn't have to think about Mother anymore.

But when he knocked on the door to 1310, no one answered. Head cocked to one side in confusion, he rapped three more times. Then he peeked through a tiny hole in the door, but he couldn't see anything through it. Fumbling with the room key, he stuck it in only to receive a blinking red light in response, but when he turned it over and tried again, the door clicked and the light flashed green. Thank goodness. The last thing he wanted to do was walk all the way down to floor seven, where Ilana stayed, to ask how to use those strange cards.

Hesitantly, he turned the handle and it creaked open. "Richard?" The pack Richard carried sat innocently on the first real bed Jacob had ever seen, and he wondered why humans insisted on sleeping so high above ground. Then he shook his head and repeated Richard's name. No one replied. Curious, Jacob went over to a window and pulled one curtain aside, only to drop it at once when his distance from the ground fully hit him. Humans braved more in what they considered to be small tasks than he had ever appreciated, Jacob thought. But where had Richard gone? If he didn't return soon, Jacob would be forced to call Ilana, if he even figured out how to use the mysterious device humans referred to as the telephone.

To distract himself from Richard's absence, Jacob experimented with the other tools lying around the hotel room. He toyed with what he learned later was a remote, pressing buttons until on flicked a black box on which colors and shapes danced before his eyes. It unnerved him to hear voices talking when the room was empty but for him, and he tapped the button again to switch it off. On the Island, he admired from a distance some of the inventions of man, but the technology in this simple hotel room surpassed anything he had ever seen.

Intimidated by the powerful equipment, he went into the bathroom to explore further. There, for the first time, he brushed his teeth with a toothbrush and washed his hands in the sink. Eying the shower, he decided to get even more adventurous. Stripping off his clothes, he tossed them to the floor, went into the bathroom and attempted to figure out the shower.

Richard had explained how the controls worked on the way to the hotel, but Jacob still managed to drench himself in icy water and then scald himself before he learned how to change the temperature to something more comfortable. The water beat against his back like the heaviest Island storm, and he laid his head against the cool tile and shut his eyes for a few minutes before it occurred to him that he could attempt to wash his hair. After all Ilana had talked about the wonders of shampoo, he wanted to try it out, but discovered that getting it in one's eyes made them throb furiously, something she had neglected to warn him of. Terrified that he had just blinded himself, Jacob staggered out of the shower and scoured his eyes with a towel. Certain that he had rubbed every drop of the liquid away, he looked up in the mirror to see his eyes rimmed with red, still aching slightly.

The sooner he could reach Michael Dawson and speak to him, Jacob thought, the better. New York had offered him quite enough already.

Just then, the lock on the door clicked, and Jacob yanked a towel off the rack just as Richard walked in the room. "Sorry I left," he said, and stared at Jacob's eyes. "What happened?"

"Soap happened. Where were you?"

"I thought I'd do a little sightseeing, since I leave tomorrow. Clearly I underestimated how quickly you'd get here."

With Richard leaving so early the next morning, he went to shower briefly while Jacob dried off and dressed for bed. Though Ilana had insisted on packing nightclothes for Jacob, he preferred to be clothed in the familiar Island garb that still carried traces of his ocean's comforting scent. Surrounded by all the wild aromas of the city, the smell of the sea anchored him, reminded him of home. He pulled the blankets over him, reveling in their thickness, and closed his eyes. In his dreams, he curled his toes in the sand beneath his feet as the tide swept over them.

The alarm beeped, and Jacob groaned, flipping over in the bed. The noise rose in volume until finally Richard slapped it off the nightstand. As he suited up in business attire, Jacob squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep again, but his mind still raced from the sudden awakening. "See you on the Island," said Richard.

After Richard shut the door behind him, Jacob felt strangely lonely. Of course, he had been alone earlier, but only now did he sense the absence of not only Ricardus, but Brother. He was aware of it once before, but then Ilana shouted something at him about paying attention, and the sights of the city had sufficiently distracted him until he found himself staring up into the darkness of the hotel room. For two thousand years, even in the solitude of the cave, one presence hung in the Island air above all else, reassuring at times and threatening at others. But now, Jacob felt no more than his own thumping heart, heard only his breathing and the distant hum of the air conditioner. Cut off from Brother, Jacob felt cut off from everything. He shifted under the covers just to feel himself move. As far as the world outside the Island was concerned, he didn't even exist. He recalled now the void left after he had cast Brother into the pool of light and thought him gone forever, and the emptiness wasn't just an absence, but a poison, one that tightened Jacob's throat and his chest.

Thankfully, the events of the day had exhausted him so much that his thoughts surrendered to sleep again. This time when he dreamed, he stood over Brother, begging him to open his eyes.

The phone rang. Jacob's head jerked up and he stumbled out of bed to snatch it up. In a hoarse voice he said, "Hello?"

But even as he spoke, a calm woman talked over him. "This is a wake-up call to remind you…."

Shaken, Jacob slammed the phone back down. The nightmare and the jolt into the waking world left him trembling. The clock read 4:15; he had barely slept at all before the phone rang. He grimaced at his own foolishness as he slid back into the bed, breath coming ragged and uncontrollably. In that instant, he had thought that maybe Ilana was calling, but no, even she could not know how isolation pained him. The thought produced another wave of loneliness and helplessness, and it overwhelmed him until the choking in his throat started again, and something blurred his vision. Tears. Brother would have loved that.

He turned over and curled up in a ball, muffling his sobs in the pillow, knowing that he should have been humiliated but unable to muster the strength for it. Having sunk from a worshipped existence on the Island to a man who could not even walk the streets of New York on his own, there was no more room for shame in him, crying like an abandoned child. His entire body shook and he gripped the pillow so hard that his knuckles paled.

For the second time, the phone rang, and at first he just sat up and looked at it blankly. On the final ring, he grabbed it and waited.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

He nodded and then remembered that he would have to answer out loud. "Yeah." His voice wavered.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes."

"What happened? Are you in danger?"

"No."

That was all he needed to say for her to understand. "Come to—no, wait right there. I'm on my way."

The phone was buzzing static before he finally set it back down in the cradle, and then he sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving. His clothes were damp and sticking to his body, the blankets tangled behind him, and his eyes rested on the clock by the side of the bed. One minute, two minutes. Click, and the door flung open.

"Oh, Father." She gathered him in my arms and held his head against her shoulder. His arms rose to grip hers, and then he clasped them behind her back. Lifting his head with her hands, she said, "I should never have—"

"No, no, you did everything you could."

"Yes, I hounded you everywhere we went and yet failed to consider what should have occurred to me long ago. I can't wait to leave this place." Silently, Jacob agreed. "I'll sleep in Richard's bed?"

"Thank you," he said, and kissed his daughter on the top of her head. With the lights off again, they both lay down and Jacob's eyelids closed peacefully as he listened to Ilana breathe steadily, peacefully. He didn't dream.

When the alarm went off again, he groaned again and whacked it off the nightstand just as Richard had. After he shook Ilana awake, she yawned and stood up to throw open the curtains. He shielded his eyes with an arm that shone almost as white as the sunlight that flooded the room. "Too sunny here," he mumbled, and started to make up the bed.

"Housekeeping will get that," Ilana said.

"Oh." Slinging Ilana's pack around his shoulder, he said, "Let's get out of here."

She and disappeared into the bathroom with a handful of bobby pins. "I promise, I'll fix this hair as fast as I can."

"Come on, you look beautiful."

She laughed. "If only the rest of New York saw me as you do, Father. Who's that man we're seeing again? Michael…?"

"Michael Dawson. I've been watching him for years. Lost custody of his son, but just found out that he has the chance to pick him up in Australia, and he'll return by way of Oceanic 815. He's not the best shot, but he'll do whatever it takes to protect his charge."

"Which you think makes him a good candidate for protecting the Island."

"Absolutely. I need to know he'll make it to that plane, no matter what happens between today and that flight back."

Ilana stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed her room key. "Let's go."

This time, Jacob didn't say anything when they reached the elevator, instead following her inside. Two women stood in the elevator and stared at him as Ilana led him in by the arm and assured him, "It's completely safe." He clutched the side rail as the elevator slid down the shaft, thankful when the doors finally opened at the first floor. His stomach growled, and Ilana said, "We should get something to eat first."

They ate breakfast in the hotel, a quieter atmosphere with light music playing in the background. As Jacob glanced around to see what the other people were like here, he narrowed his eyes. The men wore business suits and typed on laptops as they sipped their coffee, and the women ate without a sound but for the occasional yawn. When Jacob looked at their faces, he saw either sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes or lacking any expression at all. Mystified, he gave up and studied the menu instead. Thankfully, this restaurant offered an assortment of fruit as well, the only menu item that he recognized. Ilana rolled her eyes when he ordered it, but she was smiling.

Jacob bit his tongue when Ilana said that they'd have to hail another cab to get to Michael Dawson's apartment. This ride didn't last as long as the one from the airport, though, and the machine didn't rattle him so much anymore. They arrived at the apartment, little more than a run-down shack compared to some of the grand ones adorning the city, and Jacob saw that Michael's car was there. He sat calmly at a bench outside the apartment, and Ilana said, "Is it alright if I have a look around?"

As much as Jacob didn't want her to leave, it would be easier to speak with Michael alone. "Have at it."

Then he just waited, knowing that Michael would be out soon enough. Within ten minutes, he heard the door open and saw Michael walking out to his car, shaking his head and looking at the ground. Standing up, Jacob approached Michael and said, "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Michael's forehead creased in confusion. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"I knew Susan many years ago, and I hear she passed away recently. I wanted to express my condolences." Jacob reached out and placed an arm on Michael's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I," said Michael, staring at Jacob. "Thanks for stopping by, but I'm in a bit of a hurry, if you don't—"

Releasing Michael, Jacob backed away and said, "I understand. See you later."

"See you," Michael echoed, and he didn't take his eyes off the blond man as he ducked to enter his car and fired up the engine.

After Michael had driven away, Ilana walked back to Jacob's side and said, "All done?" Jacob nodded and followed Ilana to the street, where she hailed another cab.

Home was just about within his grasp. He licked his lips, nearly able to taste the sea spray, relish the sun's warm rays on his cheeks while the ocean swelled against his feet, hear the crashing waves as Brother stirred the air, weighing down on his shoulders, enveloping him.

**AN: Come on, Jacob was nearly in tears when Esau tried to convince him to leave with him, and yet we see Jacob running around America touching candidates all by his lonesome? Yes, sure. As for Richard, he was possibly on his way to see Juliet, Locke, or, because I don't think his visits to them correlate with just days before Michael stepped on Oceanic 815, someone else entirely that needed a little convincing to get on that plane. Richard's clearly able to work independently and fend for himself, but I think we've seen that Jacob's pretty insecure and unable to really function on his own.**


End file.
